one sword less
by kazeno
Summary: A small thing can change a lot of big things...


one sword less

one sword less

by Denna Lockehart

One sake bottle flew. The thrower, unsteady from drink and rage sent the earthenware bottle flying in a high arc to crash down, narrowly missing the smiling little boy. The child didn't even flinch when the bottle smashed beside him, sending shards flying. He was still smiling, always smiling. Forever smiling. Further enraged by the bottle's missing its intended target and the annoying smile of the boy kneeling in the dust before him, the burly man started down, obviously intent on pounding the smile from that oft-bruised little face. The younger of the two men nearby hurriedly restrained him, though not out of any sympathy for the child. 

"...not worth the trouble... let him be... beat... later... fail..." The wind helpfully carried little snatches of the murmured conversation to the boy's ears. The wind liked him, and helped him that way. Where a normal child might have been scared, or horrified by the words passed from son to father, this one merely continued smiling. He had never been normal, after all, but even a normal child would get used to this sort of treatment.

"Fine," the older man spat. "Get off my land, bastard!" he added, shouting in a common display of uncommon drunkenness and unconcealed contempt. The little boy picked himself up and trudged off to his designated sleeping place--the rice warehouse--with exhaustion clearly visible in every step.

As he passed the well, the little boy felt a sudden sense of strangeness, almost as if he should stop and do... something. He shook off the feeling with a quiet shrug. He had no reason to stop, had to go and sleep, recover his strength. He had lots of work to do. Leaving the well, the little child headed for the warehouse, already planning how to survive the next day.

A few streets away, a burned and bandaged man left the scene of his latest battle.

***

"Shinomori Aoshi?"

"What if?"

"Oh, I've just got an offer for you."

"I do not wish to be Shishio's lackey."

"Don't worry, you won't need to. You work for Shishio, get a nice little position after he takes over, and you get the Battousai. Free of charge!"

"And what would you have me do in return?"

"Simple. Kill Oukubo."

"And for that you'll tell me where to find the Battousai."

"Exactly."

"Very well. I accept... Juppongatana Chou."

***

They fought. Kenshin was speed, a force of nature, a striking dragon flitting around with a coat of red and white and the line of silver that was his sword. Aoshi was a tempest, white-and-dark wind wound with the slender steel threads and tainted with the plague of his hatred. Swords rang like church bells, the wind howled, and through it all Kenshin's voice could still be heard, trying to explain, to help Aoshi see the truth, to understand. It had absolutely no effect on the stonehearted former Oniwabanshuu leader. The noise was a solid block, but one sound sliced through it like the broken end of the sakabatou that was currently sailing through the air.

Kenshin stared at his broken blade in shock, thinking: _this isn't supposed to happen... This wasn't supposed to happen! Somehow he felt... wrong. This was wrong. Aoshi was supposed to be saved, to be his friend. _

Only it wasn't so. 

Blood spurted, and the rurouni stared down at the twin blades that had quite suddenly appeared from his chest. Aoshi twisted them grimly, and Kenshin slipped off the bloodslick metal to land with a dull thud on the ground, which seemed to cradle him softly, soothingly.

_This wasn't supposed to happen..._

*

Aoshi didn't go far either. Hiko found Kenshin and him before he had a chance to leave and gave no quarter in the resulting fight. Revenge often sharpens one's blade, and Hiko knew enough to be rational about it. Kenshin he buried behind the cottage where the rurouni had spent his childhood, and Hiko poured sake on the grave before swearing to get rid of Shishio on his honor as master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

***

_"Kenshin!!!"_

_ _

_A sword flashed in a silver arc. Screams. Blood. The swordsman--just a boy!--fell, a startled look on his face. Of the two girls nearby, one let out a horrified little gasp and averted her face, while the other already had her face covered with her hands, her student's name slipping from numb lips on a flood of bitter despair and disbelieving, waiting for words that never came._

_"Yahiko..."_

_ _

_Fuji was advancing, and the Aoiya's inhabitants were moving forward to fight him, only to be swept aside or... Kaoru couldn't think, couldn't work her mind at all with Yahiko's terribly still body scant yards from her, and she thought--she thought... __where is Kenshin? Where... is... he__ who was supposed to save Yahiko... And incredulously: __This wasn't supposed to happen_

_ _

_Suddenly there was silence with Kaoru still kneeling on the ground, and the members of the Oniwabanshuu in various stages of death. The sword was rising, but Kaoru did nothing to stop it, or flee, or evade. Numbly, her mind kept repeating the one phrase like a mantra, a prayer to summon god-knows-who from eternity to save her, bring back Yahiko, Misao, Okon, Omasu, Shiro, Kuro..._

_This isn't supposed to happen... this isn't supposed to happen... thisisn'tsupposedtoHAPPEN!!!_

_ _

_The sword came down._

***

The young man wandered into Tokyo on the dawn five years after Shishio had been defeated. Five years after Kenshin, Kaoru, Yahiko, Misao, Aoshi, Okon, Omasu, Shiro and Kuro had laid down their lives for a variety of reasons: duty, revenge, love, honor, courage, belief... Dawn it was, and the city was just starting top stir. He was just a wanderer, with dark blue eyes fraught with pain, short dark hair and a fraudulently innocent expression complete with cheerful smile that masked all the emotions that passed behind it. Nobody paid much attention to him except the restaurateur who shouted at him to "get off my land, bum!" The words and tone were too familiar, and he left in a hurry.

The young man managed to wander all through Tokyo in a few hours, finally ending up in front of a dojo that didn't seem to have anyone living in it. Peering through the door, he noticed seven people standing in front of what looked like three graves. One of the women was just straightening from putting flowers in front of one of the graves when she noticed him, and he stepped back, already expecting the sharp rebuke. Instead, she merely smiled and motioned him in. 

"I'm just a wanderer... I'm sorry to interrupt..." he started and was cut off. 

"It's okay. We like to be... kind to wanderers--you never know when another might wander into your heart."

The words puzzled him, and he turned to the speaker, a tall woman with long black hair and dark eyes, to inquire. As if expecting his questions, she explained quietly:

"We once had a friend... Kenshin--he was a wanderer too. We all... loved him. Very much. He died five years ago."

Yes of course. Close enough to read the inscriptions on the graves, the young man noted that one did bear the name Himura Kenshin. Somehow, it felt familiar, too familiar. 

_...is it too late to start all over again...?..._

_ _

_He shook the ghost off and smiled at the woman. "I've got to be going. I won't impose on your time any more."_

"No, it's okay. If you want to, you can join us for lunch--Tae-san runs the Akabeko and she's letting us sneak a free one."

"...Thank you, then."

"...It's okay."

The young man smiled slightly. As the others left, he turned back and stared at the three graves one last time. Himura Kenshin, Kamiya Kaoru, Myoujin Yahiko... The last two didn't ring any bells, but the first... Somehow he knew this Kenshin. Somehow, somewhere. He still couldn't shake the thought that this was somehow wrong. Somehow...

...This wasn't supposed to happen.

end

If you haven't figured it out yet, this is another one of those "what if" stories. In this case, the question is: What if Shishio never met Soujiro? In my version of this, it's pretty damn gloomy, that's what. The idea is, because Soujiro wasn't around, Shishio hired Aoshi to kill Oukubo, and then Kenshin's sakabatou wasn't broken by Soujiro, so it ended up breaking when Aoshi ambushed him while he was returning after training with Hiko instead, thus resulting in his death. Hiko had to deal with Shishio, and as a result didn't deal with Fuji when that lot attacked the Aoiya, so Kaoru, Yahiko, Misao etc. died. Shishio still died, of course. Angsty, angsty, angsty... and I love it!!! 

This fic is inspired by Esse's glorious work. She's much better at this than I am--check out "Err Ratio" to find out.

-Lockehart (27/8/2001)


End file.
